I didn't know how long I stood there, clutching my mother's cold, lifeless hand, my mind trying to break through the thick fog that was wrapped around it. The room was spinning, the shadows stretched long and thin across the walls. It felt like hours, days maybe, but time didn't make sense right now. My mother was dead. I knew that much. I knew it in the hollow way her eyes stared at nothing, the way her body was stiff and still. And yet, I wasn't sure I even believed it. A part of me still thought I might wake up.
I had to get out of here. I had to find someone-someone who could tell me what might've happened. Someone who had eyes and ears everywhere. I gasped. The priest. Father James. I didn't know why he came to mind, but somehow I could remember his lecture the day before the auction, and the knowledge he had provided us in preparation to being servants, his image was there at the forefront of my mind, clear and solid. He'd know. He always knew things nobody else knew.
My body felt like lead, but I managed to stand up, letting go of my mother's hand. The room was quiet, too dark. I needed air. I needed to see the sky, to breathe something that wasn't this sickly, choking smell of rot. My feet moved, slow and mechanical, carrying me out of the room, down the narrow hall, and out into the cold night air.
The village was a maze of shadows and silence. No one was outside, not this late, not with the darkness so thick it felt like it could swallow you whole. My head was pounding, my thoughts muddled and slow, but I knew where I was going. The church was at the centre of the village, a small stone building with a high, crooked steeple that rose against the night like a jagged tooth. Father James always kept a lantern burning by the door. Even now, I could see its faint glow, a dim flicker in the distance.
I walked, step by step, the numbness still clinging to me, weighing me down. My hands trembled as I pushed open the gate to the churchyard, the iron hinges groaning in the stillness. The church loomed ahead, dark and silent, its windows bleak as pitch. But I saw the light-the lantern hanging by the door, swaying slightly in the breeze.
I didn't knock. I pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of incense, cloying and sweet, mixing with the cold bite of stone. The inside was dim, the only light coming from a few flickering candles on the altar. And there, near the front, I saw him-Father James, hunched over a table, his back to me.
"Father." I said, my voice cracking in the heavy silence. "I need to speak to you."
He didn't turn right away, just continued scribbling something on a piece of paper. For a moment, I thought he hadn't heard me, or maybe he was ignoring me. But then, he stopped, set down his pen, and turned to face me. His eyes were narrowed and sharp, the lines of his face etched with age and something else-something that made my skin prickle.
"Jane." He said, his voice smooth and low. "I wasn't expecting you." His eyes flickered over me, and I saw something like surprise there, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a calm, steady gaze. "What are you doing here? Where is your Master?"
I took a step closer, my hands curling into fists at my side. "My mother." I said, my voice sounding strange, even to my own ears. "She's dead."
He didn't react-not at first. His face remained impassive, almost serene, but his eyes-there was something in his eyes. A flicker of recognition, maybe. Or guilt. "I'm very sorry to hear that." He said slowly. "Truly, I am. But I don't see why you've come to me with this."
I didn't believe him. I didn't know why, but I didn't. Something in my chest tightened, and the fog in my mind stirred, dark shapes shifting just beneath the surface. "No, you know something." I said, and my voice was harder now, more forceful. "You must know something."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was some puzzle he was trying to solve. "Your mother was a good woman." He said, his tone careful. "A faithful woman. But death comes for us all, child. You know this."
"Not like this!" I snapped, my heart pounding in my ears. "Not like...like she was left there to rot." I was closer to him now, close enough to see the lines around his mouth tighten. "Father, I think you know what happened to her. I think you know more than you care to admit."
Father James' expression didn't change, but his eyes grew colder, more distant. "Be careful with your words, Jane." He said softly, almost like a whisper. "Grief can make the mind see things that aren't there. Hear things that weren't said."
"Don't lie to me." The words come out before I could stop them, sharp and furious. I didn't know where this anger was coming from-maybe it had been building up all along, somewhere deep inside of me, under all the numbness and fear. "You know something, and I demand an answer! Or...perhaps you did something to her!"
He straightened, his face tightening into something hard and unreadable. "Enough." He said, and there was a sharpness in his voice now, like a blade slicing through air. "I've done nothing to your mother. If you are lost in your grief, you will not find comfort in accusations."
"Tell me what happened to her!" I demanded, my voice breaking. I was right in front of him now, close enough to see the sweat beading on his forehead, the slight tremor in his hands. "Tell me or I swear-"
"Enough!" His shout echoed through the empty church, and he steps back, his eyes narrowing into slits. "You think you understand what's happened here? You think you know the truth of things, child? There are forces at work far beyond your comprehension. Forces that demand respect."
"Respect!" I spat, the word like acid on my tongue. "What about her? What about my mother? Did she deserve any of this?"
Father James' jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Your mother was a...complication." He said slowly, choosing his words like each one was a dagger he was pulling from his belt. "But know this; nothing happens without reason. And sometimes, reason requires sacrifice."
A shiver ran down my spine and without thinking, I reached up and clasped my hand tight around the amulet hanging from my neck, the cold metal digging into my palm. It was all I had left from my mother, a simple silver pendant etched with symbols I couldn't read, and right now, it felt like a lifeline.
The change in the priest was immediate. His eyes flicked to the amulet, and I saw a flicker of something dark and desperate there-a flash of hunger. His lips pulled back, revealing teeth that were too white and too sharp. "That." He breathes, taking a step closer. "Belongs to somebody else."
I took a step back, clutching the amulet to my chest. "No." I said, my voice shaking. "It belonged to her. My mother wore it every day. She gave it to me before the auction and told me to never remove it, yet she never explained why."
He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made my skin crawl. "Oh child, you don't understand, do you? That amulet is the only reason you're still standing here, still breathing."
I didn't know what he meant, but I felt the truth of it like a weight in my bones. "You're one of them, aren't you? A...vampire."
The word hung in the air between us, and for a moment, he was still, his eyes fixed on mine. Then, he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. "Words." He murmurs, his voice like silk over steel. "Just words. But you, Jane, you have something I need."
"Stay away from me." I warned, my though my voice was trembling.
He didn't stop. His footsteps were soft, almost soundless on the stone floor. "You don't understand, child." He said, his voice soothing, like he was trying to calm a frightened animal. "The amulet, it holds power. Power that your mother kept to herself. Power that your father wielded carelessly on the battlefield fifteen years ago, killing thousands of creatures. But now, it's time to return it to its rightful owner."
"No." I breathed, taking another step back. My hand tightened around the amulet, the edges biting into my skin. "You're wrong. You're lying!"
His eyes narrowed, and his smile vanished, replaced by something colder, sharper. "Give it to me."
Another chill ran down my spine, and I felt a wave of nausea rise in my throat. "No." I whispered, but it was like the word got lost in the thick, heavy air. I stumbled back, my mind racing, trying to think of a way out, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.
"Give it to me right now, and I will make it quick." He said, and his voice was a low growl now, his patience wearing thin.
I shook my head, gripping the amulet tighter, feeling its weight against my chest. "I won't." I said, and my voice was stronger now, fuelled by a sudden urge of defiance. "I won't let you take it."
His face contorted with rage, and in an instant he was on me, moving faster than I could react. His hand closed around my wrist, and I cried out as pain shot through my arm. His grip was like iron, crushing, and I felt my bones strain under the pressure.
"Enough games." He snarled, his eyes burning with a feverish intensity. "You don't know what you're dealing with."
I looked into his eyes, his endless black pits, and I saw it-something ancient, something hungry, something that wanted to consume me whole. "That may be true, but I know enough to know that what I'm dealing with could hurt you just as much as it would hurt me." I whispered, and I ripped the amulet from my neck, holding it up between us.
For a moment, he flinched, his grip loosening just slightly, and I felt a spark of hope flare in my chest. "This." I said, my voice trembling with fear and fury. "Is the only thing keeping you from tearing me apart, isn't it?"
He snarled, a deep, guttural sound that rumbled through the empty church, and I saw his fangs-long and sharp, glistening with saliva. "You think that will save you?" He hissed. "You think that little trinket is enough to stop me?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have time. I twisted out of his grip and ran, the amulet clutched in my hand like a weapon, my heart pounding in my chest. I don't look back, but I heard him-his footsteps echoing behind me, closer, closer.
"Run, then." He called after me, his voice echoing through the dark. "Run, and see how far it gets you."
I burst through the church doors and into the cold night air, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My hand was bleeding where the amulet cut into my skin, but I didn't care. I ran, the wind biting at my voice, his voice still ringing in my ears.
The cold night air burned in my lungs, but I didn't dare slow down. I could feel Father James' eyes on me even now, like a pair of icy hands reaching out from the dark, pulling me back.
I didn't know how far I'd ran or where I was going. The village was a twisting labyrinth of shadow and moonlight, and every corner felt like a dead end. I didn't dare look back, not even when I thought I heard footsteps behind me. My hand was still bleeding from the amulet, and I pressed it tight against my chest, as if it could somehow protect me from him. From all of this.
My mind was a storm, thoughts spinning wildly out of control. I couldn't think. I couldn't see anything but those hollow, hungry eyes. My body felt heavy, like it was moving on its own, and I realised with a jolt of horror that I wasn't just running- I was being drawn somewhere. Like a threat pulling me deeper into the night. The village streets blur together in a haze of fog and moonlight, and every turn felt like the wrong one.
I stumbled into an alley, my shoulder scraping against the rough stone wall as I tried to catch my breath. My legs were shaking, my body screaming for rest, but I couldn't stop. I wouldn't. I had to keep moving, keep going, before-
Suddenly, I slammed into something solid. Someone. I gasped, my body jolting with the impact, and I nearly fall back. A hand shot out, grabbing my arm and steadying me. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up, and my heart dropped into my stomach.
Phoenix.
Of all the people I could have run into, it had to be him. Even in the dim light, I recognised him instantly-the golden, tousled hair, the sharp lines of his face, the eyes that were a deep shade of red to be real. His expression was hard, almost annoyed, but there was a flicker of something else there, something that looked almost like concern. His grip on my arm was firm, not painful, his touch cold as ice.
"Jane." He said, his voice a low, familiar drawl.
I frowned. "Phoenix?"
"Where do you think you're going, human?" He demanded.
I didn't have time for this. I didn't have time for him. "Let me go." I snapped, trying to wrench my arm free, but he didn't budge. His grip tightened, just slightly enough to hold me in place.
"Not until you tell me what's going on?" He said. "Why are you out here alone? Why aren't you at home?"
I glared up at him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Why do you care? You've never cared about anything but yourself."
His eyes narrowed, and I saw the familiar spark of irritation flare up in them. "I'm not the one stumbling around the village in the middle of the night, covered in blood." He said. "So, how about you drop the attitude and tell me what's happening?"
I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him to go to hell, but the words get stuck in my throat. Something shifts in the air around us, a heaviness that makes my skin prickle. I felt it again-the pull. The urge to turn back. To go back home. It was like a threat in my mind, winding tighter and tighter, pulling me back to where my mother was.
I frowned. "I don't understand...I was...all I know is that I have to go home, but...I was there a few minutes ago when I saw..."
My thoughts were muddled, my body moving without my consent. I feel my feet start to turn, my head tilting back towards the street, back towards where my mother was calling to me.
"Jane, look at me." Phoenix's voice cut through the fog in my mind, sharp and clear.
I blinked, trying to focus, but it was so hard. Phoenix grabbed my chin, his grip firm, forcing me to look at him. His eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of guilt.
I gasped. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."
Phoenix released a heavy exhale. "I know exactly what's wrong with you. I'm the cause of it."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"I'm not proud of it either...but it had to be done." He muttered, his voice low.
"Why do I need to go home?" I whispered, my voice barely audible, lost in the haze.
Phoenix' eyes darkened, his jaw clenched tightly. "I'm going to make it go away. But you're not going to like it."
I didn't understand what he meant, not until he stepped closer, his hand sliding from my chin to the back of my neck. I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me at his touch, and my heart skipped a beat. "What are you-"
Before I could finish, his lips crashed against mine.